Revitalized, we woke in our sunny room and anticipated a full day. Outside, the bustling city beckoned!
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After a friendly chat with the morning-crew at the Front Desk, we went to Four Courts.
With unfailing excellence, the next tram arrived in less than two minutes, and we zoomed in quiet comfort to the tram stop that was closest to Wuff. Returning to that Breakfast Restaurant was as delightful as the first time. (Some places excel on the weekends but droop in performance during less-busy weekdays). Awash with sunlight, the room filled with customers, which was impressive for a Wednesday morning. Wuff seems to be great, each day.
With speed, the burly barista created a perfect latte... topped with heart-shaped foam art.
For the first meal of the day, we tried a sausage and ham bun.
Our bill totaled 38.15, and Lewis gave an optional gratuity of €5.50 via contactless payment.
The same Arab waitress who brought our food during our first visit also brought our food. Pausing, she recognized us and said, "I remember both of you. Is this your second visit?" We confessed that we admired the restaurant's vibe and recipes. She was enchanted by our honesty. Realizing that we were vacationers, she asked about the other trips that we intended for the year. She seemed shocked (with despair) when she realized how little vacation time we are granted in the USA. A new employee in Ireland gets at least 4 weeks of paid time-off. After 5 years at his job, Lewis finally earned a 3rd week. I only get 2 weeks per year (and I'm a department manager!). America is ranked lowest among third-world nations, due to greedy employers and an uncaring government.
We mentioned our plans to tour the Guinness Brewery. (You can't go to the capital of Ireland and not visit its renown brewery). With her own accent, she said, "Ah yes, everyone loves that. You will have a great time."
All around the city, you will see the company's delivery trucks and tanker trucks distributing beer.
The "campus" is located in a district named The Liberties, which originated in the 12th century. The Anglo-Norman rulers joined it to Dublin but granted it "liberties" (manors) to keep its own jurisdiction. They were freed of certain taxes, allowed to impose their own local fines, permitted to have manorial courts of law (where each Lord of the Manor had authority).
If you rely on Google, finding the entrance to the Guinness Storehouse (for a self-guided tour) is frustrating and challenging. In existence for 264 years, Guinness owns swathes of land, and Google misdirected us twice to entrances that were not intended for visitors. That was as unhelpful as it was in Berlin.
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Mercifully, several Guinness employees at our second attempt directed us to the correct address.
The "Storehouse" is a repurposed building from 1902 that showcases the company's history, innovations, ingredients, and craftsmanship. It was the first steel-framed high-rise building in Ireland. It was retired in 1988 to be used for visitors. Each year, 1.6 million people visit it.
Each ticket cost €26, and you ascend seven levels to see the exhibits and have two free tastings. The staff was helpful and efficient. It was still early, so the crowd was less than average... which was lovely. People make pilgrimages to its rooftop Tasting Room throughout the year. It's very handsome.
Founded in 1759 by Arthur Guinness and his heiress wife, Olivia Whitmore, the company currently purchases two-thirds of the barley grown in Ireland. It sources its hops from the USA and the Czech Republic. In 1959, it hired a mathematician named Michael Ash to devise a better process. He invented the method of using an exact amount of nitrogen to improve the foam. That creates the cascade of bubbles that drinkers see in their pint glasses.
As printed on the logo, St James's Gate is the area of the city where the brewery began. In the Middle Ages, the city walls had a gate on St James's Street. That medieval gate was removed in 1734, and a brewery was built with the name St James's Gate Brewery. When it was abandoned, the Guinness family signed a lease for 9,000 years, costing £45 per year. By 1838, it was Ireland's largest brewery.
The corporate logo is a Celtic harp. Here is my amusing video of Lewis "playing" an interactive musical version of it...
Guinness began using it in 1862. It predated the birth of Ireland as its own nation. When the Irish parliament wanted to use the Celtic harp as a national symbol, it had to respect the copyrighted version used by Guinness. So, it inverted the image.
Truthfully, the company was a pioneer in many ways. Its first newspaper ad was placed in 1824. In the 1850s, Sir Benjamin Guinness (grandson of the founder) inherited the business and became a Member of Parliament and served as Lord Mayor of Dublin. He funded the restoration of St Patrick's Cathedral. In 1886, his son ensured that the company was the first brewery to be incorporated on the London Stock Exchange. It was the largest one in the world, producing 1.2 million barrels annually. By 1898, sales of the beer grew in North and South America, Africa, Australia, Asia, and it was brought to the South Pole. In 1955, the infamous Guinness Book of World Records began.
Unlike other brewers, it sought avant-garde techniques—but never used synthetic substitutes or genetically modified ingredients. It was the first company to purchase a microscope. It constructed its own small-gauge railroad to haul things between its facilities. In the image below, Lewis poses in the window of one of their vintage locomotives.
Its barges travelled along the river, connecting docks of its widespread "campus". Vertically integrated, the company built its own ships to transport its products across oceans. It remains a large-scale employer in Ireland, and it famously/historically treats its employees well. Unlike "Big Businesses" in the capitalistic USA, it didn't behave like a robber-baron to overwork underpaid laborers. Unlike those greedy corporations, it never had "company towns" that forced employees to pay back their wages for rent, food, and household supplies.
We watched historic videos of barrel making, circa the 1920s. Coopers are professionals who make barrels. Despite the Industrial Age, Guinness believed strongly in the quality of handmade items, and it sought to provide jobs for less-skilled Irishmen and specialized tradesmen. Hand-hewn slats and wrought-iron ribbing were assembled into the shape of a barrel, which was steamed so that the wood bent for the barrel's shape. Hand-whittled lids were fashioned for each one—sealing it perfectly. Imagine the nimbleness of those coopers! Imagine the woodworker's agility to create the seamless joints.
Just as we saw at a Dominican rum plantation, those barrels were "fired" because the flames charred the interior enough to ensure a robust flavor when whiskey was aged in them.
*To see our trip to the island-nation of the Dominican Republic, please use this link:
https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2017/10/dominican-republic-vacation.html
On the fifth level, we were ushered into a queue for an Aroma Room. Positioned in the floor, four fonts billowed with vapor that smelled like the four main ingredients in a Guinness draught.
Asked to choose our preference, our favorite was the cacao/coffee one. With his microphone, the employee in the room said that the brewery is one of the few in the world that roasts its own ingredients. Consequently, the whole district smells like roasted cacao/coffee during that process, which occurs twice a month. Supposedly, the neighbors love it.
We were given small glasses to admire, smell, and taste.
In an adjoining room, the man guided us to appreciate the tastes that occurred on our palettes during each sip. Leaving our empty glasses there, we were encouraged to purchase additional "experiences" on the sixth level. We were content to go straightaway to the seventh level.
Resembling a sleek observation tower, the Tasting Room is encased in glass on the roof of the historic building. The circular space provides unobstructed 360-degree views of the metropolis. Etchings on the windows indicate site-seeing highlights.
There were two bars where customers can choose their type of free beer. A few people got pilsners, but we decided to have a pint of draught. It took awhile to get them, though.
The "luck of the Irish" helped us snag a table near a window. As we sipped the delectable brew, we gazed at the foothills of the Wicklow Mountains in the distance.
The hum of conversation grew, as more arrivals appeared. Admittedly, we are not fans of beer. But we liked Guinness. It didn't make our mouths dry, and it didn't fill our stomachs with bloated gas. I suppose that's due to its refined processes, which are better than elsewhere. It's undeniable that a pint of its beer tastes magically better when its served in Dublin, as opposed to in another country (after transport). We recommend the experience of going there.
Riding the trams east and south, we disembarked (Tap-and-Go) at Dawson.
We entered a department store named Brown Thomas via its main entrance on Grafton Street.
It is Ireland's preeminent one, and it's owned by the Weston family. They also own the grandest store in the Netherlands: De Bjinkorf in Amsterdam. They own England's famous Selfridge's Department Store on Oxford Street and England's preeminent food purveyor: Fortnum & Mason. (We visited both stores and continually order online from F&M).
The layout is circuitous and not easy to navigate. Unlike other department stores that have central places for escalators and elevators, theirs are obscured. The most shocking inconvenience is that the Men's Lavatory is on the lowest level, but the Women's Lavatory is on the top level! Couldn't they set aside enough space to put them together? We are convinced that hundreds of shoppers don't read those Floor Directories carefully enough to see a female logo and a male logo separately.
On the top level, the skylit cafe looked typical, but it lacked a Food Court that we experienced in London, Berlin, Helsinki, New Delhi, Shanghai, Amsterdam, Osaka, Florence, and Copenhagen. There was a section dedicated to items made by Fortum & Mason. Alongside it was a Chocolate Section. It wasn't purely gourmet, and we saw some of the same brands sold across the street at Marks & Spencer. It was a challenge to find chocolates "made in Ireland", but we eventually discovered a brand named Chez Emily.
Founded in 1996, the husband-and-wife company is named for their daughter, and it produces handmade Belgian chocolate. A salesgirl named Erika assisted to buy/wrap them to share with our colleagues as souvenirs.
(In contrast, America’s largest chocolate manufacturers, such as Hershey and Mars, still use underpaid African child labor for harvesting. They are 25 years behind-schedule to stop such uncivilized practices. They can afford to stop, but they choose not to).
While browsing the shelves, I spotted a box of shortbread biscuits (cookies) made by Island Bakery on the Isle of Mull in Scotland.
They were awesome: a pure buttery flavory, the right texture (that didn't disintegrate when bitten), and a lovely golden color. Begun in 1994 by a husband-and-wife team, the enterprise started in a garage until they overtook a retiring baker in their town in 1996. In 2001, they formulated their biscuit recipe, and it was so good that they won contracts with two of London's prestigious department stores: Selfridges and Harvey Nichols! (We shopped at both). That is indicative of society in Ireland and the United Kingdom that consumers and retailers support local artisans to keep nutritious and well-made products alive. Being eco-friendly, the bakery uses renewable energy for its electricity. So cool. We intend to buy more biscuits online via British Corner Shop.
Men's shoes were located on the underground level, but the range of options was "pedestrian". We could easily find things to wear, but nothing seemed outstanding to bring home immediately. Overall, Irish culture is very content (similar to Denmark and Finland), so that corresponds to an absence of over-consumerism. Therefore, more retailers have modest supplies, and there are fewer overpriced "luxuries" or exotic items. There was a focus on sturdy, sensible shoes that look good but can overcome cobblestones or countryside mud.
Being a shoe-lover, Lewis was intrigued by a brogue (bróg), which is a popular type of men’s dress shoe that features perforations (a.k.a. broguing) on the upper segment.
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They originated in Ireland and Scotland in the 1580s as “countryside shoes”, and the perforations were designed for ventilation. The word derived from an old Norse word, brók, which was “leg covering”. In the USA, brogues are also called wingtips. In Ireland and Scotland, a Ghillie Brogue is a type of classic shoe with open parts (where the tongue would be) and long laces that entwine your calves and give prominence to your colorful knee-high socks.
Happy with our purchases, we moved to a boutique for Butlers Chocolates. There is no relationship to the aristocratic Butler Family. The chocolatier was founded in Dublin in 1932 by a woman named Marion Butler. It remains Irish family-owned. They invest in promoting female farmers in Africa, where the sustainably-sourced cocoa beans are harvested from well-paid farms. Regularly traveling to the Ivory Coast, the company executives also invest to improve the livelihoods of those citizens. At home, their facility is certified as Origin Green: solar power, 0% waste to landfills, and a 20% reduction in factory emissions. They avoid palm oil, focus on water conservation, and use recyclable packaging.
The salesman created box of seven chocolates that we chose. Seven is literally an odd quantity, but that's what the small box was allowed to contain. Each morsel was priced at €1 each, which was extremely fair (by American standard) for luxury confections. Our favorites were the Ivory Chocolate Latte, Milk Chocolate Orange Crunch, and Dark Chocolate "Intense Truffle".
Lewis had the great idea to seek nourishment at Kathmandu Nepalese Restaurant, so we lunched there. It is named for the capital of Nepal.
Despite its magnitude and phony claims to be "the most diverse city in America", you can't find a Nepalese restaurant anywhere in Manhattan. Equally disheartening, midtown Manhattan remains void of ethnic cuisines for the last eight decades. (You find ethnic people washing the dishes at overpriced restaurants).
It was a joy for us to have lunch in the middle of the capital at a nifty Nepalese place. Napkins were folded artfully on every table, and wine glasses were placed by each one. The dining room was half-full. A trio of suited Indian men conversed in a corner. Sitting alone, a nicely-dressed Irishwoman had a lovely lunch break from her office. (She eats there regularly). Everyone else was Caucasian. The waiters were Nepalese, Tibetan, and Pakistani.
We ordered a platter of momos (dumplings). They were delectable: juicy and flavorful.
Next, we ate Aloo Chaap (mashed potatoes infused with ginger and cumin), Chicken Saag (cooked with spinach and herbs), and stewed Himalayan Mutton. The sauces were lovely.
Our delicious meal was modestly priced at €47.85, and we gave a €5 gratuity. With toothy grins, the trio of waiters wished us a pleasant day.
*(When I returned to work, I showed photos of our meal to my Nepalese coworker who is from Kathmandu. She was ecstatic to see her culture represented so well, and she was gladdened to hear about how much we liked the restaurant's recipes).
Craving a refreshing beverage, we visited a Taiwanese bubble tea shop named Kakilang. That is a Mandarin word meaning "you are one of us".
Bubble (boba) tea originated on the island-nation of Taiwan and is now world-famous. We finished our last sips while gazing upon the river.
Before we knew it, we had walked nearly five miles through the picture-perfect streets of Dublin!
Back at the hotel, we changed clothes for dinnertime. Conveniently, we rode trams to Saint Stephen's Green. Literally across the street stood the 5-star Fitzwilliam Hotel at 128 Saint Stephen's Green. Within its handsomeness was a restaurant named Glovers Alley. It was named for the city's ancient glove-makers that once occupied the alleyway.
Wearing purple tailcoats, the hotel's doormen greeted us.
We paused by the lobby's cheery fireplace.
Riding up the elevator, we arrived in a plush place that had the streamlined decor of the Art Moderne era.
At only five years old, the restaurant already garnered a Michelin star.
With polite promptness, we were welcomed by a suited gentleman, and he took our coats to a hidden door that acted as a closet. That reveled Lewis' sparkly brooch shaped as a crown, fastened through the buttonhole of his lapel. The fellow complimented it, and Lewis thanked him.
With a palette of pink and green hues, the L-shaped dining room curved around a "service bar".
We were ushered to seats in a tall banquette made of supple pink leather and accented with green velvet pillows. It gave us a full view of the main room, where broad windows overlooked Saint Stephen's Green. The wood that curled around our round banquette (which could easily hold four people) blended into the woodwork that adorned the wall. Globe lights illuminated the wall. The vibe was evocative of a vintage ocean liner... or a set from a Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers film. Snazzy.
Centered in the front room, a curvaceous "bench" of green velvet gave outward-facing seats to an assortment of tables.
A see-through partition—with oval mirrors that angled in different directions—divided the other end of the room, with another line of tables and deuces against the other wall.
Plenty of people filled the room, and the volume of conversation was low yet lively. Crystal clinked, utensils tinkled on porcelain, and candles flickered everywhere. Instantly, we noticed that the staff embodied the postures of professionals. They poured liquid with one hand behind their back. Waiters stood upright and held their heads with casual poise. They smiled graciously at their customers. Already, it was a huge improvement from our prior night's disastrous dinner. Here is Lewis' panoramic video of the scene:
Excusing myself from the table to "use the lavatory", I evaded Lewis to have a whispered chat with the dining room manger, named Terry Ng. Seen on the right in the image below, Terry oversees the Dining Room team with poise and élan. They truly uphold the standards that are commensurate to winning a star.
I wanted to redo my anniversary with Lewis. (Twelve years is worth celebrating in a proper way, and I wouldn't let that prior dinner besmirch it). I did not mention our bad meal during the prior night. Instead, I focused on the current day and strove it make it special. Hearing that it was our anniversary, Terry was immediately inveigled to help me. He was honored that we flew across an ocean to eat at Glovers Alley. His surprise was joyful, and it seemed like he "revved up" for the occasion. He and I agreed that sipping some bubbly would be a superb way to celebrate. We reviewed the wine menu, and he planned to serve us a two glasses of sparkling wine after our cocktails. He also confided that the kitchen was in possession of outstanding truffles, and I assured him that Lewis would want to purchase some as a supplement!
I washed my hands in the lavatory, and I loved the lotion. I don't understand why more upscale American restaurants don't provide hand lotion in their lavatories? That decency is commonplace in China, Japan, Italy, Germany, Finland, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Spain, France, and Ireland.
Rejoining Lewis, I was happy that his eyes sparkled with eagerness after looking at the cocktail menu. (We were given our dinner menus 20 minutes later. That is appropriate, and we savored our unhurried mealtime).
With truthfulness, the website proclaims that the kitchen conjures "a celebration of the finest Irish produce, creating an elegant and refined dining experience". Chef Andy McFadden's style is renown for bold flavors, robust combinations, and creative textures. Our dinner surpassed every meal that we ate in Ireland. Unlike our previous dinner, the food from his culinary team was artfully presented.
They share in their success, and that keeps everyone enthused.
To start the evening, Lewis ordered a Teelings Peach Sour: Teelings Single Grain, Peach, Madagascar Vanilla, and Citrus. I tried a sublime Skellig In Sky, which was a tasty concoction of Skellig Six18 gin, Saint Germain, and Thyme. Both were priced at €16. Made in Ireland, the artisanal gin is distilled in small batches as "pot still" on the Atlantic seashore. It's named for the 618 steps to ascend the nearby Skellig Island, and it's flavored with yarrow flowers, birch, dillisk (red seaweed) and Douglas fir botanicals. Seen below, Maksimas "worked his magic" at the bar.
We sipped them gently without a care in the world. We saw more diners arrive: a foursome of male business professionals, an elderly couple, and a young red-haired woman who ate alone. We were impressed that—unlike stigmas for women in the USA—Irish women are unafraid to eat alone at restaurants. Good for them!
If guests prefer bottled water, the price is €5 per person, but we were happy to drink Ireland's pure/safe tap water.
When our cocktails were gone, the sommelier came to our table with the bottle of sparkling wine. After congratulating us on our anniversary, he presented the bottle so we could see the label: extra dry Prosecco Furlan DOC Treviso (€13 each). Founded in Italy in 1930, Furlan Winery achieved recognition since 2018 for low environmental impact methods that protect their region's biodiversity. It tasted like lemongrass and poached pears. Lovely.
Terry arrived beside him holding a circular tray with two glasses. We were impressed that the bottle was uncorked at our table, instead of them using a pre-opened one that had a stopper in it. That provided us with the best taste/experience possible. The sommelier gave us "a generous pour". Exuding genteelism, the men withdrew, and we clinked our glasses together as a toast to "restored happiness". I proffered a kiss to Lewis' cheek, and he smiled sheepishly.
Glovers Alley uses handblown stemware from Riedel—founded in 1756 as one of the oldest glassmakers in the world.
Dutifully, the sommelier revisited our table to make sure that our beverages tasted as we expected. The bubbles matched our effervescence! Segueing to the Wine List, he expertly sought to match a bottle from their cellar to the enjoyment of our meal. Lewis and I both zeroed-in on a vintage from Slovenia! The country makes marvelous wine, yet few people are aware of that. He was pleasantly taken aback by our choice, and he approved of it wholeheartedly. He fetched a €65 bottle of Domaine Dirings "Fosilni Breg" Sauvingon Blanc, made in Stajerska, Slovenia.
In 2005, the Tement family established the Domaine Ciringa winery, which is near many Austrian vineyards and benefits from coralline limestone soil. They produce fine wine.
After several minutes, the Head Waiter, Filip, came to our table.
With bright-eyed energy, he asked if we wanted to see the dinner menu? In fact, he didn't have them yet, just in case their presence might make the customers feel rushed to start eating. That's the type of courteous ritual that should always occur. (Clearly, Chef McFadden's team knows how to do things in superior ways than at Patrick G). When he presented the menus, we surprised him with our enthusiastic palates. Filip mentioned a few "Specials of the Day", but he had the most pride to announce the harvest of newly-unearthed truffles from the Kingdom of Spain. After our trip to Italy, last year, we learned more about truffles than we ever knew, and our fervor for them intensified. The gentleman smiled with humor when we both agreed to purchase the supplemental truffles!
Enthralled by the menu, we both chose the 7-course Chef's Tasting Menu: €135 per person.
Our languid meal commenced with a basket of handmade bread, which Terry used tongs to distribute on our bread plates. Fresh from the oven, there were four varieties: Black Olive & Parmesan spirals, Walnut Raisin loaf, sliced Guinness Rye, and baguettes. With a warmhearted smile, he informed us that we could have as much as we wanted. Many customers enjoyed more than one serving of freshly-baked bread.
My favorite was the spiral filled with minced olives and cheese. It was scrumptious! A pedestal of frosted glass held a round slice of butter. Made from unadulterated milk from non-GMO cows, it was the creamiest Irish butter imaginable.
Next to emerge from the kitchen were two types of an amuse bouche. Presented a block of lacquered burlwood, a pair of phyllo cups were full of softened cheese and caramelized onion, topped with chives. Beside them, a plate held a duet of savory Cep Mushroom meringues with chicken liver parfait inside. Those were sublime!
The first course was Carlingford Lobster, with kohlrabi, ponzu and thyme.
The unique sweet flavor and high "meat content" of Carlingford Lobsters are two of Nature's treasures. Lewis was thrilled to discover them!
We finished our sparkling wine alongside its flavor. That was a great pairing.
Unobtrusive but always attentive, Terry positioned a shiny wine chiller near our table, so that his staff could pour wine for us at any time. Lewis was presented with the first sip of the Slovenian specialty, and it tasted superb. We were very happy with our choice, and Terry was happy for us.
The ensuing course was Beet "Tartare" with hazelnuts, mustard, and sprigs of dill. An artfully-thin slice of beet was draped over it—cleverly like a blanket. The beets tasted perfect!
Throughout our dinner, the service was always correct without being stuffy. All of our utensils were shiny-like-new, and it reminded us of the perfectly shined silverware at the Lord Mayor's Lounge. A rotation of servers worked in tandem to keep our water goblets full, maintain the cleanliness of our table, and one smiley server attentively offered us more bread—warm from the ovens.
Then, we were presented with Scallops with Hollandaise sauce, Jerusalem artichoke, and parsley.
That was followed by Kilmore Quay Brill, served with wilted veggies and caviar. Kilmore Quay is a fishing village on the southeast shore with a population of less than 500. It is renown for its fresh fish and Ireland's largest bird sanctuary. Yachts going to Continental Europe often depart from its marina.
As a delicate flatfish, the brill was artfully dissected for the tenderest fillets... as seen below.
Enraptured with those piquant flavors, we looked forward to our main courses. For me, it was Comeragh Mountain Lamb, served appropriately with Winter Root Vegetables. Coming from that aforementioned mountain range, the free-range lambs are a local delicacy. They have the ability to graze on a larger variety of higher-altitude nutrition: moor grass, deer grass, bog heather, fescue, sorrel, violets, bluebells, primrose blossoms, and Tormentil herbs. They only drink mountain-spring water. Such an excellent diet improves the lamb's quality, texture, and taste. Caring for the animals also continues the ancient roles of sheepherders and sheepdogs. Residing in Waterford, the Drohan family is the sixth generation to be shepherding sheep.
Chef McFadden selected their excellence, and it was brought to our table—full of succulence and benefitting from first-class cooking. Every forkful was amazing!
With his charming manners, Terry offered me a supplement of foie gras for €15, but I was content.
Lewis is not an enthusiast for lamb because most American types are raised with inferiorities, so they taste "gamey". Despite the protestations from Filip about Irish lamb being raised better than American types (causing a truer/mild flavor), Lewis asked for a substitution. With a desire to please his customers, Terry accommodated the request in a dignified way and suggested an item from the A La Carte menu. I knew that Lewis wouldn't pick the Sika Deer, but he eyed the seafood options. After a succinct discussion of flavors, he and Terry settled on Wild Turbot, prepared with Brassicas, Chorizo, and Red Dulse. Loverboy was delighted with it!
Before we began eating our main courses, Filip approached our table, carrying a wooden box that was a humidor. He placed it on our polished-wood table with the style of someone conferring an award. Gently, he opened the lid to reveal three nice-sized truffles! Wearing white cotton gloves, he held one gingerly and showed us the texture. With good humor, he posed it for Lewis' photograph.
For him, it was pleasurable that customers valued the excellent food and wanted to remember those moments—and share with friends. We knew that the truffle's circular shape indicated a higher quality, as did its consistent exterior pattern. With a ceremonious vigor, Filip shaved a bountiful amount of the prized ingredient onto our food. Curlicues of shaved truffle landed on the plate in abundant layers. It was wonderful! The aroma that tingled our noses was even better! Consequently, every mouthful of our food was astounding. We adored it!
After that, I opted for an extra course: a Cheese Course that consisted of Wicklow Ban drizzled with truffle honey, priced at €12. As an artisanal Irish cheese, the double-cream Brie was aged for six weeks. It is crafted in small batches from freshly-milked cows in the Town of Wicklow.
As a business, Wicklow Farmhouse Cheese is not like American corporations that advertise themselves as quaint "farms" but are actually industrial plants. It is an authentic family business: the Hempenstall's own a small dairy named Curranstown Farms, and milking their 150 cows is a daily occurrence for the past 50 years. Their cows are part of a Friesian herd that came from Friesland in the Netherlands.
As a separate business, their handmade cheeses won Bronze, Silver, and Gold medals at international contests. The farm's lush grasslands produce high-quality milk, and its proximity to the ocean produces a distinctive taste during the aging of the cheese. There are no artificial flavors or preservatives. They earned certification from the British Retail Consortium which approves safety/quality standards for food supply chains.
As a palate cleanser, two waiters gave us bowls of blood orange granita over sheep's milk yogurt (we love both), drizzled with honey.
For dessert, we enjoyed platefuls of mango, pineapple, praline and caramelia... each prepared by the skillful pastry team.
Terry was polite by offering to take our picture.
As a complimentary gesture, he returned to our table with a tray of two liqueur glasses that were full of Grappa Silver, as a digestif.
By then, the room was nearly empty, so he engaged in a lengthy conversation with us about our aspirations to relocate to Europe. He shared his own experiences emigrating from Malaysia with his family and living in Dublin for 15 years. He was enchanted by Ireland's natural beauty and the Irish way of life. Candidly, he described the good schools for his children, as well as his commute driving to work. He agreed that the public transportation is excellent, and it gets better each year. He acknowledged that our expertise in luxury retail and customer service would be valued in the capital. On a humorous topic, he talked with Lewis about how his children aren't interested in learning Cantonese or Mandarin, despite his efforts to give them private tutors. He complimented Lewis' fluency in both dialects, and he was wowed that Lewis learned purely from his family. For Lewis, being tri-lingual is an asset in Ireland. Terry praised the city's inclusion of other cultures. We chatted enthusiastically for thirty minutes, and we never felt like we withheld him from his duties. There were moments when he excused himself to tend to something, but he always graciously returned to talk more. That chat about our prospects was encouraging.
As the last customers to leave the restaurant, we paid the bill, which was €443, and we included a heartfelt gratuity on the contactless payment that exceeded 20%.
As a generous gift, Terry brought our menu to the kitchen to be autographed by Chef Andy McFadden, who was perpetually working.
With an enthusiastic signature, Andy wrote, "Thanks for coming to G/A!!! Happy Anniversary!!!" It was a lovely gesture, and it's our favorite culinary keepsake!
Adding to it, Terry wrote his name inside the menu booklet. We thanked him profusely. The restaurant's team did an outstanding job that outshone Patrick G. We were thankful that we dined with them after PG. Lewis and I cannot wait until we return to that stellar restaurant, and we hope it wins another star for its hardworking excellence. We strongly recommend Glovers Alley!
Lewis and I rode a tram back to our hotel, and we delighted in its punctual and immaculate service.
Thanks to a blissful evening of talent, culinary masterpieces, and cordiality, we went to bed and slept serenely.
Another sunny day made Dublin sparkle. We paid for our rooms, and the Front Desk team stored our suitcases in their Luggage Room. They also scheduled a taxi for our trip to the airport. There was no charge for that convenience. We had plenty of time for breakfast. Going through the automatic doors, we strolled to Panem Cafe for a meal by the river.
We sat next to an Indian father and his son (who was gay with a trendy haircut and two dangly earrings). He smiled at us. Our Irish-accented waiter was a young man with facial scruff, curly hair, and three pewter rings that had ornate scrollwork. The tall Korean fellow prepared a perfect macchiato for me: €2.80. Sunlight filled the room beautifully. Again, it was refreshing to sit in an atmosphere full of lively chatter, instead of being with overworked people who are only focused on their devices.
I chose a North-African recipe named Shakshuka: eggs baked in a spicy tomato ragout with garlic, peppers, and onions. Lewis ate poached eggs, smoked ham, arugula salad with tomatoes, and sticks of toast—used to dip into the runny egg yolks.
Afterwards, we walked upriver at a leisurely pace.
As we walked north on Capel Street, I paused at the window of Camerino Bakery & Cakery because it was full of decadence! Here is Lewis' video of its mouth-watering goodies...
We returned to the hotel, and a young man fetched our luggage. He did not expect a gratuity, but Lewis insisted. Exactly on-time, a taxi arrived outside the hotel. The driver communicated digitally with the Front Desk team, and a smiley woman notified us that our cab was there. Politely, the driver got out his cab to take our suitcases and put them in the trunk.
The comfy ride to the airport lasted 25 minutes and cost €22.80, plus €3 gratuity. Getting through the airport was easy.
Until then, our fastest Airport Check-in / Security Screening was at Copenhagen's Airport: 11 minutes. However, Dublin's Airport surpassed that: 6 minutes! Dublin provided the quickest and most-efficient processing experience of our lives. Congrats to those hard-working and well-planned teams!
At London, we got aboard our transatlantic flight with ease. It was enhanced with another nice meal, bottles of wine, fun films, and the smiliest attendants.
For a stark comparison to Dublin, our (dirty) NYC taxi from the airport to our home was only 15 minutes, yet it cost $57 (not including tolls)! Adding to the needless cost, the driver—who didn't get out of his cab to help us load or unload our luggage—expected a gratuity.
Another unpleasant contrast was the freezing weather. Please watch these videos to hear the forecasts that greeted us...
During the next day, we tried to be "happy-go-lucky" and walked to the supermarket, but unfixed pavement caused Lewis to trip. He fell and gashed his leg on a ridge of broken concrete in the sidewalk. It required 5 months to heal! Typical in uncaring NYC, businesses are allowed to neglect their sidewalks (to the detriment of citizens) and merely pay meager fines, instead of having to fix the issues. Crappy cement like this shouldn't be permitted on a main part of the sidewalk in a pricey neighborhood like Astoria.
When I returned to work, I boarded the subway, and an angry man started screaming at another fellow to give him more room. It wasn't a few comments; it was a tirade that lasted for several minutes! Five times, he threatened to punch the guy. He challenged the guy to exit at the next station, so he could assault him. NYC never changes. Later in the week, my homeward commute was disrupted when a "signal malfunction" (the 17th of the year at that same station) prevented trains from moving. The abhorrent part was that the blockage was on the side going into the city—which meant that the trains were backlogged so much that they reached the end-of-the-line and were queued so long that trains leaving the city couldn't go forward! Ridiculous! It's like a third-world country. After 30 minutes, nothing was resolved, so I got aboard a different route and exited at its closest point to my home. I walked 1.7 miles to get home. The next night, Lewis got stuck in a reoccurrence of the same (unfixed) problem. After an hour of standing on his train, he exited, ascended to the street, and tried to find a ride. Sensing the dilemma, Uber greedily surged its prices. Lewis strategically walked for several streets and hailed a taxi in a less-crowded area. By the time he got home, it was nearly 9pm. As I said, New Yorkers overpay to live in "America's richest city".
